If Charlie takes my advice 'e won't pay you a farthing. I should
let you do your worst if I was 'im; that's wot I should do. You've got a
low face; a nasty, ugly, low face."
"One o' the worst I ever see," ses Mrs. Cook. "It looks as though it
might ha' been cut out o' the Police News."
"'Owever could you ha' trusted a man with a face like that, Charlie?" ses
old Cook. "Come away from 'im, Bill; I don't like such a chap in the
room."
Jack Bates began to feel very awk'ard. They was all glaring at 'im as
though they could eat 'im, and he wasn't used to such treatment. And, as
a matter o' fact, he'd got a very good-'arted face.
"You go out o' that door," ses old Cook, pointing to it. "Go and do your
worst. You won't get any money 'ere."
"Stop a minute," ses Emma, and afore they could stop 'er she ran
upstairs. Mrs. Cook went arter 'er and 'igh words was heard up in the
bedroom, but by-and-by Emma came down holding her head very 'igh and
looking at Jack Bates as though he was dirt.
"How am I to know Charlie owes you this money?" she ses.
Jack Bates turned very red, and arter fumbling in 'is pockets took out
about a dozen dirty bits o' paper, which Charlie 'ad given 'im for
I O U's.
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